I Can't Pretend To Know How You Feel
by LogicIsTheUltimateWeapon
Summary: I am Prowl; in all my years, it never occurred to me that lives so young could teach so much. And as the two younglings - a mech and a femme - took my war-worn servos, I felt a twinge in my spark as they whispered, "You were meant to be somebody."
1. Chapter 1: Stuck With You

**Just something that popped into my mind at 2:00 AM. My fingertips were tingling in anticipation. XD**

**Summary: **I am Prowl, ex-enforcer and Autobot SIC. It never occurred to me that lives so young could teach so much. The small mech and femme took my war-worn servos and gave me determined looks. It was then I could feel a twinge in my spark as they whispered these words. "You were meant to be somebody."****

**Warning(s): Cussing, massive amounts of fluff, angst.**

**Continuity: AU, G1 Elements.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers, no matter how much I beg the government. Everything belongs to their respective owners.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1 - Stuck With You<strong>

It was supposed to be a normal mission.

Get in, get the information, and get out. But it hadn't happened like that, and just as Bluestreak, Mirage, and Prowl returned to base, Optimus really couldn't have been more suprised.

"Is that...?"

Looking into the grim faces of each mech, the Autobot Leader was met with a nod of confirmation from the one in the middle.

One large doorwing flopped uselessly as a gaping hole in the back of said mech leaked energon, a hole where a second doorwing should have been; his posture was straight, rigid, giving a restrained air to the mech as his gleaming crimson-red chevron dipped in the lighting. Two strong, war-worn rough servos and arms held two small bundles curled into tight balls, miniscule-like trembles shuddering through the weak metal occasionally.

Lips were pressed tight, voice strained, as the ex-enforcer reined in his raging emotions, "Yes sir."

A breathless whisper slid through the air.

"Sparklings?"

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><p><em>Three Earth Hours Earlier...<em>

_It had been a long time since Prowl and Bluestreak have gone undercover in espionage and sabotage, with their frames being Praxian and the like. They were glad to be able to get out onto the field again._

_Prowl flexed his doorwings, sensors feeding his battle computer different readings. Taking the course of action with the best outcome, he pointed to one wall of the current building the Decepticons were using as base. Mirage nodded at his signal, flickering out of existence and proceeding to scale said wall. Letting his optics drift upwards, the black and white Praxian could see Bluestreak hiding out somewhere higher and further into the forest that surrounded the clearing where the dull grey building was._

_He commed the younger, **::**Bluestreak? Are you in position?**::**_

_**::**Yes sir!**::** Came the chirped reply from the sniper._

_**::**Good, wait for Mirage's signal,**::** Prowl got an affirmation ping in reply and lay in wait._

_It was only 16 Earth minutes later when the SIC had received a blast of static from the blue and white noble through the comms; a cry of distress made it through before it went silent, empty._

_What had happened?_

_Prowl's optics widened as this happened, immediately leaping into action. He dashed towards the entrance of the base just as he called for Bluestreak again - the sniper had heard it as well._

_Then three things happened all at once._

_Prime's Second could have sworn that all this happened in slow-motion. Mirage burst through the large double doors of the base, and by burst, he meant literally. The noble threw himself out and landed with and undignified grunt on his back with a sickening crunch that probably sounded worse than it was. Prowl could see his two arms were curled around something, shielding it almost, but he couldn't figure out what from this angle. At the same time, Starscream and his trine followed the smaller Ops 'bot, looking royally pissed off. Prowl was about to lend a hand before he was almost scorched by a blast from a certain red and grey Praxian's shot._

_Turning around and glaring at Bluestreak, he received a sheepish smile in return._

_"Hehe, sorry Prowl."_

_He sighed and his doorwings gave an aggravated flick before he turned back around and launched himself into the fray - right at Starscream to be exact._

_The 'Con SIC gave a shriek of rage as they exchanged blows with each other. In the back of his mind, Prowl swore he could hear Bluestreak hitting Skywarp with his rifle and Mirage yelling at Thundercracker._

_"Give him back Thundercracker!" He heard Mirage yell protectively._

_There was a snort, "What? This?" And he could almost see the sneer on the blue seeker's faceplates, "Never!"_

_Hearing Bluestreak's horrified gasp and a weak wail of despair however, Prowl faltered, glancing out the corner of his optics to see what had happened. Bad choice, however, as that distraction allowed Starscream the advantage, and grasping the top corner of Prowl's left doorwing, he pulled. There was a terrible shriek of metal and the sound of wire popping from socket as the Praxian's door was torn completely off._

_He couldn't help but give a muffled whimper as the tri-coloured Seeker ripped off his doorwing, but Prowl tuned down the broken sensors at that part of his chassis, especially the ones registering the most pain._

_Prowl retreated slightly, letting Starscream stand from when he had been tackled, then charged at him once again. They both rolled as they grappled._

_"Starscream! Desist!"_

_A snarl, "You aren't the commander of me, Autobrat!"_

_Landing a solid punch hard enough to put Screamer in a daze for just a second was all Prowl needed as he could hear Mirage and Bluestreak running back into the forest and back to base. The black and white took off, barely noticing TC tending to an injured Skywarp before meeting up with his teammates._

_As he pushed through the large threatening trees, he made it to Mirage and Blue's location, but when he got there, he wasn't able to suppress his shocked gasp._

_"Sparklings?" He couldn't help the surprise lacing his tone._

_And as he said this, two pairs of crimson red optics stared up at him. He saw fear, desperation, and more importantly - Prowl could see they were scarred._

_At that moment, Prowl could only help but feel even more hatred of the war, and more strength renewed for the Autobot cause._

_He reached a dirty white servo to each helm, caressing them softly and murmuring his support. A hint of a smile tugged at a corner of his lips as he felt each helm lean into the touch and the traditional 'grabby hands' made towards him. He took the two sparklings, and in a rare display of affection, let them nuzzle his neck._

_Staring back up at the shocked and amused expressions, he cleared his vocalizer of static. Was it in embarassment? Well, it could have been, but it's not like Prowl would ever admit that._

_Yet, with his blank and cold expression back in place, he ordered them back to base. And they did just that - two packages in hand._

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><p>It was a little later when Optimus was left blinking after Prowl's report (the SIC had been at the med bay and repaired earlier; for his doorwing, however, he'd have to wait a week before getting a new one), "And do you know what the sparklings were doing on the Decepticon base?"<p>

Prowl shook his head in the negative, "No sir, but based on the information I took with some advanced scans of the small bodies, I believe they used to have more siblings, ergo, would be something of interest to the 'Cons."

"Care to elaborate more?"

A sigh, "It seems that the two sparklings are spark-twins, sir, the bond similar to Sideswipe and Sunstreaker," A pause and a wince at the name of the terror duo, "But, there was also traces of a severed bond, all the symptoms were, there, and I'm sad to say, sir, that they probably had a third or fourth sibling. Triplets or quadruplets, possibly."

Prowl could see his superior's optics crinkle slightly and he just knew that there was a pained expression behind the blue and red's battle mask, "_Had_ siblings, Prowl?"

And as if explaining that the first sparked triplets or quadruplets died at the hands of the 'Cons wasn't hard enough.

"I'm sorry to say, Optimus sir, but Mirage said he found a greyed shell beside the two sparklings upon first glance - they were presumably triplets before their sibling...passed."

A sigh as the Leader leaned back in his chair.

"Any suggestions, sir?"

"Please Prowl, just Optimus."

"Optimus then."

A nod. There was a pregnant pause, before the Prime leaned his elbows onto his desk and looked at his comrade. No, not comrade, right now, friend.

"What do you suggest we do, Prowl?"

Scenario after scenario ran through Prowl's battle computer, before, "I...can not say for sure, sir-Optimus. Perhaps we should give them an appropriate guardian for now before we can choose the best choice of action."

The leader smiled his affirmation, and standing up, Prowl took the cue as they both headed out of Prime's office and to the med bay where the twins were, hopefully, under Ratchet's 'tender care.'

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><p>As the two mechs walked into the bay, a wrench nearly collided with their helms.<p>

"Whoever the slag you are, I don't care what you want, so unless you're on the verge of deactivation, GET OUT!"

Ahhh, there was their caring CMO.

Optimus' voice rumbled in amusement, "Good afternoon, Ratchet." Prowl also grunted a greeting.

"What do you want, Prime? Prowl?" Ratchet could be seen turning his chassis to look at the two, or, _glare_ at the two is probably a better term for lack of proper words. He crossed two cherry red servos across his chest as his optics narrowed into slits.

"We just wanted to see how our little guests are doing."

Ratchet snorted before reporting, "They should be fine now. Though, it's good you rescued them when you did. I would have given them another 48 Earth hours until they would've offlined...permanently."

Prowl nodded, before, "Is there any proof of them having any other siblings?"

The medic sighed at the lack of emotion on the SIC's face, but replied nonetheless, "Yes, actually. I've confirmed of them having a sibling, more likely another mech, but if the severed bond is anything to go by," There was a small growl as optics dimmed murderously, "those blasted 'Cons got to 'im before we even had a chance."

There was a mourning silence in the med bay until they were interrupted by a delighted squeal.

The three mechs' heads turned simultaneously as they saw the little mechling (beside his recharging sister) making grabby hands at... Prowl?

Optimus' optics shuttered in surprise and Ratchet barked a laugh at Prowl's completely confused and flabbergasted look.

"I think he wants you to pick him up." Ratchet smirked.

Prowl glared. Ratch was going to have a field day with this.

"I knew that."

The black and white awkwardly held up the mechling with two servos. As the sparkling dangled, he whimpered. Why was the mech holding him like this? Grabby hands were once again made from the distressed sparkling.

Prowl frowned. He knew next to nothing about sparklings, never having any siblings and barely seeing any young ones during this wretched war. But here he was, holding one who was clearly upset. What was he supposed to do?

Optimus and Ratchet could be heard behind Prowl, failing miserably at stifling their laughter. "Hold him closer to your spark, Prowl."

Doing as told, two small servos made their way around the Praxian's neck and a small helm nuzzled under his chin. As awkwardly as before, Prowl patted the young one's back, soothing the tired soul.

Optimus looked to Ratchet as they watched the scene, "The sparklings are taking this whole thing rather well."

The medic nodded, "Unlike normal mature mechs and femmes, sparklings have automatic switches, almost, in their small CPU's that delete bad memories so that their emotional subroutines aren't messed up. These sparklings in particular are going to be able to feel the loss of their sibling, but probably aren't going to be able to understand why there's this emptiness in their spark."

Nodding in understanding, Optimus had to stifle more laughter as the femmling awoke and demanded to be picked up by Prowl as well. The white and black looked completely and utterly awkward and the CMO and Leader of the Autobots didn't think that the SIC could show any more emotion than he was now, publicly showing his inexperience with sparklings, albeit it being only Optimus and Ratchet with him here.

"Well I'll be, stick-up-his-aft SIC finally let go of that mask he's built up over the vorns. It's about fragging time." Ratchet snickered.

Optimus, however, felt his mood tone down slightly. _If only everybot knew about Prowl...the chains that bound him, constricted him...poor 'bot. When would he be free?_ _Yet, seeing him like this, Prime mused, maybe there was hope for him yet._

Clearing his throat, Optimus made his decision. "Alright then. Prowl?"

Said 'bot looked up at him, arms full with happily trilling bundles of metal, "Yes, erm, Optimus sir?"

A smile behind that blasted battle mask, "I've decided, with Ratchet's approval of course, I believe that it would be best if you were the sparklings' guardian for now."

Ratchet nodded with a sadistic glee-filled grin, "Of course. It would only be natural with the way the sparklings seem to have become attached to you like that."

Prowl gaped, completely unlike himself, and Optimus and Ratchet let their laughter fill the bay as the black and white spluttered.

"Wait, what!"

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><p><strong>Would anyone like to see this continued? If so, leave a review please! Reviews are bliss! Flames will be dealt with by an overcharged Ratchet.<strong>


	2. Chapter 2: Tiny Servos

**A/N: Wow, thanks to all the people who reviewed! I know, I'm a horrible person for not updating, but bear with me please.**

**Anyways, **Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays to all and to all Happy Readings and Writings!****

****Warning(s): Fluff, angst.****

_'italics' - flashbacks_

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><p><strong>Chapter 2 - Tiny Servos<strong>

"Hey Prowler-...ah."

The sight was quite comical, really.

Jazz had entered Prowl's office, expecting the usual cold greeting, and small talk for a breem if he was lucky, then a brief dismissal before he was practically forced out of the room. No, seriously, the tactician's glares were really _that_ bad.

Instead, he had found the tactician sitting rigidly at his desk, while Bluestreak sat in the background, babbling randomly to two happily trilling and chirping sparklings. The sniper seemed tired, though, if his exhausted posture was anything to go by.

And still, Jazz almost laughed outright at the looks on the sparklings' faces. Optics wide and mouths open in gleeful grins - all because they were amazed at the sounds coming out of the grey Praxian's mouth. They were so fast and... different from what everybot else says!

...And those large metal things fluttering on the mechs back were mesmerizing as well.

Recovering from his shocked haze, Jazz took a look at the obviously tired SIC. Chuckling, he questioned, "Hey Prowl. I was gonna ask if you knew where lil' Blue was, but obviously mah search is over." Gesturing his head over to the younger in the room, Bluestreak merely waved noncommittally before continuing to spew out random babble, much to the sparklings' delight. "'nyways, 'was gonna ask whether you guys wanted ta come 'nd go celebrate wit' the rest o' us after our victory over the 'Cons last week."

At this, Bluestreak's helm perked up, expression hopeful. Prowl sighed, before nodding curtly.

"You're dismissed, Bluestreak. You have deserved it, after all."

Giving a cheerful whoop and Prowl a hug in thanks, he ran over to Jazz who told the mech to wait outside for him for a sec while he briefed Prowl on a recent report.

As the door swooshed shut, Prowl picked up the two sparklings he still stubbornly refused to call his own. As the black and white had quoted, he was merely 'looking after' the two until they find a better guardian for them. He _was_ SIC, he didn't have that much time for both his duties and looking after sparklings _and_ their needs.

Giving his long-time friend a suffering look, Prowl stared at the other occupying his office. "Now Jazz, if I recall the duty roster correctly, and I should because I was the one who constructed it for this week, today is your off-day."

Jazz merely replied by grinning widely, "Yeah, ah know Prowler-"

"Prowl, Jazz. My designation is Prowl."

"-but ah wanted to know how the whole sparkling situation is going. Ah mean, you can't leave 'em in here forever."

Prowl's right doorwing flicked in aggravation, "I do _not_ just permit the sparklings to only this particular room."

A sigh, "'Raj's, Blue's, and ya're quarters don't count, Prowlie."

And there it was. Prowl's doorwings sagged, and not even bothering to correct the nickname, the SIC huffed. His stoic mask disintegrating too easily for the Praxian's liking and he looked at Jazz with weary eyes.

Jazz looked back with a determined face, small grin still in place as he set a servo atop of Prowl's shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. "Ya wanna talk 'bout the situation Prowl?"

The look on his face told Jazz he'd much rather be getting to other activities, such as that word load Prowl kept claiming never ends, but went against his better judgment and sat down, arms packed with two tired sparklings.

"It's a long story."

"Ah got the time, Prowlie." Jazz grinned, sitting in front of Prowl on one of the guest chairs, planting his feet comfortably up on the desk (yet, not before sending Bluestreak a comm. to meet him in awhile outside the base).

"Well, where do I begin?"

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><p><em>It was earlier that morning, and as Prowl mused, he figured it to have been at least four days after he 'temporarily-adopted' the two sparklings, and honestly, it wasn't fun.<em>

_Prime had taken away half of his workload and divided it equally to other mechs that would meet the expectations needed for it somewhat. And let me tell you, it really was wearing down on the mech._

_Of course, it was a little bit of a well needed break from routine and logic. And Ratchet had been telling him he needed said break. The CMO had even threatened, 'And so help me Primus, if I catch you working when it's not necessary, I am going to take that battle computer of yours away and turn it into something useful that **doesn't** work itself into stasis... like a toaster.'_

_How the medic came up with such colourful and creative threats (or how he knew what a toaster was) was beyond Prowl's understanding._

_Now, though, it was 4:00 in the afternoon - Earth time - and the mech had nothing to do, having finished his workload for the orn in the morning. Sighing in defeat, he supposed it would be better to go get the little femmling and mechling from Mirage instead of wasting time by sulking in his quarters._

_As he walked through the corridor on his way to Mirage's quarters, he occasionally nodded to those who greeted him during his walk. Doorwings flickering as he did, Prowl mused about the past days, seemingly have gone by so fast since he picked up the two chirring bundles._

_Optimus had given Mirage and Bluestreak as Prowl's helpers or substitute babysitters when the black and white really needed it. Not only because they just had that natural feel when they were with the young ones, but also because the sparklings seemed the most comfortable around those three mechs the most._

_The sparklings weren't scared of other mechs, no, their processors made sure of that, but they were merely more comfortable in the proximity of those they met here first._

_Familiarity was comfort._

_And Mirage didn't seem to have a problem with taking care of the young'uns, despite popular belief. It turns out that at the Towers, the elite mechs took great pride in their sparklings and were known to pamper them. And Bluestreak, on the other servo, was just happy to help two cute, young lives._

_Though, why the sparklings made it clear that they liked Prowl the most was baffling to himself._

_Finally reaching the Special Ops mech's room, he pinged for entrance and the door swished open in reply. Stepping in warily, Prowl was greeted with the vision of Mirage fussing over the crying mechling while the femmling recharged._

_Snapping his head up, a rare, albeit small, relieved smile adorned Mirage's face._

_"Hello Prowl. I have to admit I'm glad you are here, this tiny mechling here has been fussy ever since at least half an hour ago." Yet, as he said that, the small one was staring in awe at the SIC, then, after a couple cooing sounds, made grabby hands for the doorwinger._

_Complying, Prowl bent at the waist to pick up the small being, cradling him close to his spark (as Ratchet had ever so helpfully instructed him to), and awkwardly patted the small one's head, trying to soothe wounds that the sparkling didn't even know he had._

_Picking up the femmling, Mirage offered, "Would you like me to help you carry her to your quarters?"_

_Giving a curt nod in appreciation, Prowl thanked the blue and white. Then they both headed off to their destination._

_An uncomfortable silence followed, giving Prowl some time to think._

_Again, why were the sparklings so attached to him?_

_"Well, perhaps they just like you...or..." Mirage trailed off. Prowl jerked, he hadn't realized he'd spoken aloud._

_"They say sparklings can sense a good mech when they see one, Prowl. Perhaps there is just something more about you that the rest of us can't figure out, but the sparklings can."_

_Prowl nodded at this, it was a logical reason for the most part. And even as they reached Prowl's quarters, he just couldn't help but feel as if he was missing something._

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><p>Jazz had listened attentively, to which Prowl was grateful for. It wasn't often he was able to voice his true feelings out to another.<p>

And by the end of it, the two sparklings in his arms had come out of recharge. Their optics glued onto the one holding them in strong arms, as if in a trance. It was flattering almost, albeit uncomfortable still to the socially-awkward SIC.

Thanking Jazz and bidding him farewell, Prowl stood, sparklings in arms, and trudged to his quarters. There were a couple mechs lingering in the hallway, as many mechs were off duty by this time of the day, and they stared at the SIC with various expression ranging from amused to creeped out.

Prowl was used to the less-than-nice jabs being sent his way, whether behind his back or to his faceplates, but it seemed worse with having the sparklings in his arms.

_"I heard those two sparklings were 'Cons." _There was a snort of disgust, _"Pathetic. Mechs can't even take care of their own offspring."_

Yet despite his mixed feelings about the comments to himself, it was indeed quite inappropriate to be making such comments about the sparklings he held. It hadn't been a public announcement about the little ones until recently, and still there were mixed reactions from his fellow comrades.

The sparklings didn't deserve this however. To be discriminated against merely because of optic colour, or who their creators were. It wasn't like they could control it, and Prowl could relate to how growing up like that was. Maybe, _too well_ for his liking.

So turning around and glaring at who'd uttered the comment, probably some minibot who needed an attitude adjustment (the ex-Enforcer wouldn't be surprised if it was Cliffjumper), and glared. His doorwings flared as to make himself seem larger and more intimidating. And the black and white mech, in an uncharacteristic show of anger, felt his control slipping away as he was about to snap a retort to the comment (which no doubt, was _not_ supposed to have reached his audios) on HIS charges.

At least, he would have made it that far if it wasn't for the tiny servos prodding at his chest plating. Tiny palms squeaking against his armor as they patted his chest in an attempt to get his attention. Prowl obliged, indulging the two in a calming, small, smile, before sneaking a glance at who he glared at merely a moment ago. Satisfied with having turned the mech into a quivering pile of goo from his glare alone, he turned on his heel and into his quarters.

Inside, the stoic mech allowed his cold exterior to melt away. He knew there was no need to keep it up when there was nobot he needed to hold it for.

Seemingly pleased at this, the sparklings giggled in his arms. He smiled slightly at them. It wasn't as if he was angry at the sparklings or irritated at the fact he was assigned to take care of them, but he was confused as to his earlier problem.

Even if the sparklings saw him for who he was, who _was_ he exactly?

He lay down on the recharge berth with the sparklings curled up to either side of him, and they snuggled happily into the now-familiar arms that encircled them.

And as they did, Prowl couldn't help but reminisce. The feeling was familiar, but not in a good way.

He just couldn't put his finger onto when he'd felt this way.

...

_He could hear the yelling voices from outside the small room he was in, doorwings quivering as they were forced flat against his tiny back. He had two frames on each side of him - one slightly larger than his own, and the other smaller._

_He remembered whispering haunting words of reassurance to both on each side of him, only to have whimpers answer his own hoarse voice._

_The yells were getting louder outside now, and he could hear things crashing - the distinct sound of crystals shattering made him flinch. His crystal garden!_

_"No..."_

_The forms he held curled even tighter into his sides, and Prowl wanted to do all he could to protect them. But... what could he do against those large presences outside?_

_The screaming outside was so loud, his audios ringed with the sensation, yet it got harder and harder to think as they did. A strange fog clouded his processor, and it consumed him no matter what he did to stop it._

_And then light flooded their previously dark space as two large, clawed servos grabbed the others from his sides._

_"No!" His only sources of comfort! They couldn't take that away from him! It was the only thing left-_

_And just as he finished that thought, a hand striked him across the face. Sadly, the only thing he could remember before he fell unconscious was the emotional pain and the physical pain of a dented bottom lip, energon leaking to his chin. His fists clenched angrily before he was forced to succumb to the darkness around him._

...

Prowl, startled, shot straight up from his berth. He panted from the bad memory-purge he relived in his recharge, and swiping a servo across his lip, he was relieved to see that the phantom pain he felt was only fantasy.

Wait... He swiped a digit across his lip again and was horrified to notice there was indeed a small dent there. Shocked, he was about to comm. Red Alert, before a small chirrup sounded, demanding his attention.

It was the small femmling, holding an empty energon bottle (one Ratchet specially designed for the purpose of these two sparklings), and was repeatedly hitting it across Prowl's shoulder.

He winced as she hit him hard enough to produce a _very_ small dent, it was nothing compared to what happened out in battle, but imagining what damage she could very possibly do as a youngling had him grimacing.

Well at least that explained the dent on his lip.

He picked up the small one and sighed, heading over to a storage cabinet in his room where he had stored two weeks worth of sparkling-grade energon and filled the pouting femme's container. Adjusting his hold on her and raising the bottle to her lipplates (as Ratchet had, again, so helpfully instructed three days ago), he watched in an almost awe-like state as she sucked on the end hungrily. She purred happily as the energon started to flow into her tanks.

Prowl took a deep invent as he watched this. He was tired from the day's events and confused as to why a horrible memory had been brought up during his recharge cycle. Yet, even as the small femmling finished her bottle, and the sound of the mechling's systems starting up reached his audios, the doorwinger couldn't help but jerk at the small tug he felt in his spark. It was so swift and short, but it had still been there.

Smiling, Prowl just chuckled as the mechling whined in jealousy from his spot on the recharge berth, and made his way to pick him up. Gathering the materials necessary for the young mech's own meal, a thought crossed his processor...

_"I really need to give these two names."_

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><p><strong>ANY SUGGESTIONS ON NAMES FOR THE LIL' CUTIES? <strong>**And yes, next chapter's where we really get rolling, so expect longer scenes and a little more fixation on the sparklings.**

**Review please?**


	3. Chapter 3: Designations

**A/N: Ah yes, well, I realize I haven't updated since last year and I really need to continue my stories, so here's just a lil' something for your amusement.**

**Please heed to the fact that this is more of a filler chapter in which the sparklings get their names, but there is some plot in there, so I'd recommend reading it. Reminder to the fact that this fic is an AU with G1 Elements.**

**Warning(s): Un beta-ed; Implications to abuse?**

~spark bond talk~

_'flashbacks'_

::comm. link chatter::

**I don't own anything. Enjoy!~**

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><p><strong>Designations<strong>

Now, if one were to ask him, Prowl would consider himself in the more 'anti-social' group of the Ark. Duty came first, after all, especially in the middle of a war. He'd never really considered going out and socializing when there was far more important duties that needed to be tended to. However, the black and white could not bring himself to regret the bonds he was forming with those who were assisting him with the sparklings, even if they could be a little too giddy for the usually composed SIC's liking.

"Hiya Prowl!"

Prowl raised his helm from where he was working in his office, a datapad in his right servo and a stylus in his left. Two sparklings were perched just in front of him, flailing and playing amongst themselves dangerously close to the piles of datapads stacked in neat columns on said desk. And though his face remained neutral, the set of doorwings on his back gave a small flutter.

"Good afternoon, Bluestreak. You have just finished your shift, I presume?" He set down his work on the table as the young sniper bounced his way in, plopping down politely into the metallic chair in front of Prowl. The sparklings trilled their greetings to him as well.

Blue beamed happily, his servos reaching forward to give the two young ones affectionate pats and strokes to the helm. His optics remained on the mech he was known to treat as his creator-figure. "Yup! And I know for a fact that you're off shift too. Hehe, can't exactly hide that from me Prowl. Anyways, I was just wondering if you would like to come to Jazz's quarters with Mirage and I later on, with the sparklings of course, so we can relax and get to know them better. We've had these guys for at least an earth week after all! Oh, and I heard Ratchet and Prime might be coming to. So what do you say, Prowl? It's going to be loads of fun!"

The black and white listened on with an endless patience. He had been accustomed to his 'student's' rambling since forever. It was nostalgic really, and Prowl let the ramble of words wash over him with contentment. That is, until he was interrupted by a different kind of sensation.

He breathed a sharp intake of air as a memory file assaulted him. Prowl knew he was staring at Bluestreak, the same gunner he'd known for most of his life, and he knew that the grey and red mech was just continuing his incessant babbling... he knew it, but... he wasn't seeing it.

What he saw was a youngling, older than the sparklings, but much younger than the youngest mech on base. It was of the mech-frame that looked frighteningly familiar to Bluestreak. The youngling was covered in energon and gashes littered his frame. Circuits sparked, wires were slashed, and gears whirred as the underdeveloped internal repair system struggled to keep vital systems working. Large wounds still leaked and small doorwings still flailed. Dim optics flickered as the mech tried to stand from where he was sprawled on the chair - and Prowl had half a second to take into account that the other's optics were red when all of a sudden the youngling heaved, unprocessed energon bubbling up from a damaged throat. It's chassis raised with every precious breath, and fell with each exhale, the sound making Prowl's audios ring. The younger wailed, and his very presence flickered in front of the ex-enforcer's optics as a figure of a large mech came up behind the small one. The older tried, but he couldn't make out what the large presence looked like.

Just before the looming shadow made it's show of destroying the youngling's life, the smaller made one last weak attempt to communicate.

"Prowl..."

There was a piercing scream.

"N-NO!" Abruptly, Prowl stood, his large chair falling behind him, causing the sparklings to flinch in surprise. "STOP!" Bluestreak yelped at the sudden movement, his rambling never having ceased since it started. Prowl moved in front of his desk, grabbing him by the shoulders, he could only see the greying chassis of a youngling. "Primus, stop it!"

"Prowl!" Bluestreak had no idea what was going on, all he knew that Prowl's optics were glazed over and his expression was one of panic. Reaching behind the trembling black and white chassis, the younger pinched a doorwing hard enough to sting.

It worked. Snapping out of his haze, the black and white stopped. Blue noted with concern that the other's chassis was hot to the touch, and was only slightly relieved when his 'mentor' returned back to normal.

Immediately, his posture went from desperate panic to the usual rigid, stoic look. Doorwings raised higher onto his back and his faceplates melded back into the usual expressionless nature with ease. To most, he'd seem back to normal like he hadn't just witnessed a scene picked out of one of Sideswipe's horror movies, but he couldn't fool the younger. His 'wings trembled with stress and his posture was too stiff, and the Praxian really considered taking him to the med bay.

"Prowl, a-are you alright? That was a really violent reaction! What just happen-"

Smoothly, said mech interrupted what was no-doubt to become an endless stream of words. "I assure you Bluestreak, I'm fine." Prowl internally winced as his statement came out to fast for his liking.

He looked unconvinced. "No you're not! What-"

"Blue," Prowl's spoke with a tremor to his tone. "Please, leave it alone. I'm fine. I apologize for having frightened you."

"But-"

A whimper interrupted their conversation, and both turned around simultaneously, laying eyes upon the little mechling that uttered the helpless sound. The femmling beside him looked terrified with wide eyes that were filling with coolant.

Prowl immediately cursed himself for the lack of restraint he had just showed, and went over to his charges. He picked the femmling up in his left arm, the mechling in his right. Hoping to calm the two, he murmured reassurances to the two, idly rubbing their small backs soothingly.

Bluestreak scrambled up from the chair in which he'd been sitting on, grasping Prowl's forearms gently, but firmly. "Wait, Prowl. You got to tell me what the frag that was!" Dismissing the uncharacteristic swearing, Blue continued. "That wasn't normal! I can't just forget about that!"

Of course Prowl knew that that couldn't have been normal... but he also knew exactly what had just happened. Oh frag, this can't go well.

And yet, before Prowl could even process his retort, Mirage and Jazz both showed up at the entrance to his office. Like usual, Jazz hacked the door and merely announced his arrival instead of pinging for entrance like a normal mech.

"Hey mechs! Are ya guys comin' ta' the partay in my quarters t'night?" His visor flashed merrily as he strutted in, Mirage following him with an amused look.

Prowl, thankful for the alibi from the suspicion Blue had formed, took the advantage. "It can hardly be called a party, but of course we are." He made a show of displaying the sparklings in his arms. "And I think that these two are more than ready to get going."

Jazz beamed. "Then why wait? Mechs, onwards!"

Mirage chuckled at his superior's antics, and taking the mechling from Prowl's arms, each followed the TIC.

Bluestreak watched with a concerned face, his doorwings drooping as they exited. He had no choice but to follow so that he didn't garner anyone's attention as to his current mood.

He would just get the answer out of Prowl later.

* * *

><p>It was sometime later that Ratchet dragged Optimus out of his office to attend the festivities going on in Jazz's room.<p>

He had greeted the Prime with a curt, "If I'm being forced to go, then so help us because I'm bringing you with me..." Then added as an afterthought, "...sir." And so they left.

Optimus wasn't affected by his CMO's mood, having adjusted to the fact that it was all a facade to hide the care he felt for his patients long ago. After all, despite the cheery atmosphere, they were still at war, and Prime feared that the next battle with the Decepticons would be happening soon, their recent inactivity being a concern as to what they could possibly be plotting. Intel from Bumblebee's latest mission says that the 'Cons are going to be making a trip to Cybertron soon via space bridge, and it was disconcerting to say the least. Shockwave still had control of the bridge and the majority of Cybertron.

As he followed the considerably calm medic towards his TIC's quarters, Prime took the time to muse. They had gathered two sparklings from the Decepticon headquarters merely a human week before, and Prowl had calculated a 89.37% chance of them having previously been the first born triplets in Cybertronian history that lived - it was more likely the 'Cons killed of the third mechling instead of it actually dying because of spark failure. It has been said that perhaps their enemy faction was experimenting on the three because of that reason, but Optimus knew there had to be more to it then just that. He'd need his Special Ops team to gather more intel, possibly from Shockwave's lair on Cybertron as well.

A voice pulled the Autobot Commander from his pondering. "All negatives aside, Prime, you really need to learn to relax once in awhile. Enjoy the good things in life when presented, because Primus knows how scarce those are."

Optimus blinked, staring down at Ratchet in surprise. "Ratchet, as a fellow commanding officer and old friend, you should know that I would be expecting you to have been the last 'bot to be telling that to myself."

A snort. "So the Prime can be a sparkling-loving idealist and I can't have a go at psychology?" The medic's usual glower was replaced by an amused grin that said more than words ever could.

"Apparently not." Prime chuckled, amazed at how little effort it took for Ratchet to fully distract himself from the burdens he carried.

The two soon made it to their destination, the door triggering open at their arrival. They peered in warily, unsure of what to expect since the last time Jazz had thrown a 'get-together' in his quarters.

"If some unidentifiable goo falls ontop of us again, I am not helping you get it out of your joints." Ratchet muttered, bravely taking a step in.

Optimus just shook his head in bemusement, taking a step in after the red and white. "Jazz?" He called into the empty living quarters.

"We're in 'ere, Bossbot!" The music-lover's voice rang out from his berthroom. The two entered said room, expecting to see him lounging out on the berth with perhaps Bluestreak or Mirage as they waited for everyone's arrival... but of course with Jazz, that was never the case.

"Eeeeeeee!" The only warning the two new arrivals had was the delighted squeal before a small mechanical chassis launched itself at them. Optimus took a nanosecond to process what was happening before he ducked, the medic forced to catch the small one. Jazz's laughter rang in the background.

A groan. "Prowl, he's hyper again."

"Now tell me Mirage, why is it I that must go there and get him, possibly aggravating the already murdurous medic?" Was the patient reply.

"'Cause it's your turn!" Bluestreak giggled, his expression one of perfect innocence and normality.

Both Praxians had a staring contest (it had been the first time the ex-enforcer had spared a glance at the younger since the incident in his office), before the black and white relented. "I see..." He stood, doorwings flicking in quiet irritation. Prowl sighed silently, the music that had been playing was seemingly softer now as he took slow, deliberate steps towards Ratchet.

The medic himself was stock still, stunned at the mechling that had the bearings to attach itself to his face. Optimus slyly took sidesteps to hopefully escape the medic's inevitable angry tirade. Soon, though, white servos hesitantly peeled the still squeaking and giggling sparkling from Ratchet's faceplates. Prowl held the squirming one, staring at Ratch's face with something akin to concern.

"Oh no, watch out mechs! The Hatchet's gonna 'xplode!" No sooner had the words escaped the saboteur's lips did he yelp, a decent sized dent now adorning his helm. The wrench that caused said dent fell to the floor with a clang, much to the delight of both sparklings as they cooed loudly.

"Like slag!" The medic snorted, scanning the mechs in the room. "That mechling there is fast, I'll give you that. Caught me off guard."

"Watch your language around the sparklings." Prowl almost rolled his optics. "He can be quiet when he wants to, as well. Took me a full earth afternoon to find him once. He was trying to avoid flushing his tanks." Prowl set the mech down beside his sister, who cooed.

Mirage chuckled. "What I'm hearing is that we got ourselves a future special ops mech in the making." Jazz made a sound of triumph.

Prowl gazed at the two affectionately, as if they hadn't been the cause of all his problems the past couple days. "Perhaps." The sparklings positively squealed, glad for the attention they were receiving from their guardian.

It was only then that the mechs were actually able to examine the sparklings in detail. Save for Ratchet or Prowl, none of the Autobots have really gotten to know the young ones well. It wasn't really his fault, but Prowl had become prone to isolating them in places he had deemed 'safe.'

The mechling bathed in the attention, flailing his limbs happily. He was small, tinier than his sister in fact, which was one thing. At first, Prowl had been worried about him, considering his size, but Ratchet assured him that it was nothing to worry about. His helm and chassis were of basic Vosnian design, marking him as a seeker. His helm was mostly black (with red audio finials), as well as his pelvic plating and his legs from the knee down. The rest of his chassis was red, adorned with intricate designs and patterns of white and black along his arms and chest. His still-developing cockpit was tinted black, and even then the lacy patterns of red and white wove themselves over that. His faceplates were white, as well as his servos and peds. The small nubs on his back displayed his growing wings, and they held the same design as the rest of his metallic body, red with black and white designs. Although all of his colours were a shade darker than most would choose, he was still a looker, everyone could agree on that.

His sister was somewhat of his opposite. She also had the Vosnian-style chassis, except it was bulkier then what you would usually see from seeker femmes, no matter how little the femmling still was. Her chassis was simple, yet elegant simultaneously. A shiny silver graced her arms, servos, pelvic plating, and legs from the knee down. Her helm was grey with white audio finials, a dulled colour in contrast with the silver, but it complimented her frame all the same. Her cockpit was silver with white patterns (similar to her brothers) running through it, and her chest and stomach plating were both plain white. Her wing-nubs were the opposite of her cockpit, white with silver lacy patterns.

Optimus murmured, "Very beautiful sparklings, indeed. I wonder if they were created by a spark merge or by Vector Sigma."

"It would be near impossible to be created by a creator and carrier, wouldn't it?" Bluestreak wondered.

"Perhaps, but the possibility is still there." Mirage stated, his tone inquisitive.

Prowl sat down on the berth beside his charges. "Whatever method, they are still both amazing sparks."

Jazz grinned. "How very contempl'tive o' ya, Prowler!"

Ratchet snorted as Prowl merely smiled at his companion.

As the adults mechs talked however, the sparklings were having conversations of their own.

Through their still-strong sibling sparkbond, they chattered. They weren't as incoherent or infantile as the older mechs thought them to be. At least they knew the basics!

~Hey sis, what're they talkin' 'bout?~

The femmling spared a red-optic'd glance at her brother. ~I dunno. Gotta be pretty funny if they're all laughing like this, though.~

~Yeah, I guess.~ A quiet, metallic whine was heard. ~But I'm bored. And hungry. Let's go do something!~

~You're always hungry. And what would we do? We can't even walk straight yet.~

~Uhmm...~

~Exactly what I thought.~

Unknown to the youngers' conversation, Jazz rubbed his servos together in anticipation. "And now t' the main event! Let's get t' naming the cuties!"

"Yup, right before you break out the high grade." Ratchet muttered, before his face broke into a grin. "Well, what are you waiting for? Prowl?"

Said mech blinked. "Me? You want _me_ to name them?"

"You _are_ their official guardian. They look up to you, love you. Can't you see it?" Mirage spoke up.

Prowl took in a sharp intake from where he sat. He wasn't used to such things. Love? Familial love, of course. But... such emotion was foreign to him. His spark clenched in pain at the nostalgic feeling. It was so familiar, yet unfamiliar at the same time... No... No. He couldn't do this!

He couldn't go through this again! Not now! He wasn't ready!

A warm, small servo against his forearm brought him out of his panic. He looked down to see both his charges looking up at him. Prowl didn't see the Decepticon-red optics, but instead saw optics of understanding, of unconditional acceptance and affection. A warmth radiated through him.

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"Well... any suggestions? How about for the femmling?" He reached down and placed both sparklings in his lap.

~Hah! I get my name first!~ The femme giggled from where she sat.

The mechling huffed quietly. ~Who cares! I bet mine will be twice as better as yours will be!~

~You wish!~

"Blackfire?" Jazz suggested.

Mirage grunted. "Perhaps Astoria or Hecate?"

"Diskette? I don't know, there's so many possibilities for her! She's a seeker, a femme, she's really pretty for a sparkling... She seems really smart, already, too. What about CD? Uhmm, Sharpshooter?"

The small nubs on the silver and white sparkling's back fluttered in natural curiosity, patiently waiting for her name to be chosen.

Prowl stroked her helm, a gesture he'd seemed to be doing a lot these days. "What do you think, young one?"

She trilled and clicked, the nubs fluttering again.

A giggle, and she replied even if he couldn't hear her. ~Anything's fine with me.~

Over the bond, her brother snorted.

And then it came to him. "Windswept." Prowl's suggestion rang throughout the room.

"Yeah... yeah, I can see dat."

"It suits her, does it not?"

"Pretty!"

The sparkling sat still. ~Ooh, I like that name. _Windswept._~ She tried it out. ~What do you think, brother?~

He responded quickly. ~I think it's cool!~

She stared up at Prowl, a shy grin colouring her expression. Her small silver servos gripped two of his white digits, and she squeezed to show her appreciation.

"I believe she approves." Prowl chuckled. "And what about you, small one?" His other servo came to caress the mechling.

~Gimme a cool name! One better than Windy's!~

~Oh joy, nicknames.~ The femmling resisted the urge to roll her optics, something she'd seen Prowl do countless times this week. ~And you do realize he can't hear you?~

~Whatever!~

It was the same routine. Names such as 'Sharpshift' and and 'Firefist' were mentioned, but ultimately, they picked the name that complimented his ability to be unnaturally silent and swift, as well as his silently running systems.

"Shadowrunner." The mechling squeaked and squealed with joy as murmurs of agreement floated through the room.

~Hah! My name's sooo much better than yours, Windy!~ He gloated.

Windswept giggled over their bond. ~Keep dreaming, 'Runner.~

~Ah, so I see that two really _can_ play at this game!~ He snickered sillently. ~So be it!~

Prowl couldn't help his surprise at the tugging feelings he felt in his spark again. But he couldn't quell the feelings of unease that wouldn't leave the back of his processor. Bluestreak was probably going to pester him about what happened earlier in his office, and the sparklings were unknowingly bringing up memory files that Prowl had been sure to keep locked away. He didn't know what was happening. No. He couldn't _believe_ what was happening!

And yet as he gazed at the now-designated Windswept and Shadowrunner... he couldn't help but shove his worries aside for now. There was no point dwelling in the past if there was nothing like the present, anyways.

So he forgot about his troubles for now, and forced himself to enjoy the gathering that would bleed into the evening.

"Alright, mechs, let's brake out da high grade!"

"Not around the sparklings you idiot!"

"Watch your language, medic!"

...If he even survived for that long.

* * *

><p><strong>And finally some plot for you guys!<strong>

**Thanks goes to ReveilleWolfie, Suki-Angel91494, Amai Seishin-Hime, Luna Prime- Awesomeness, Prowls-little-angel, and Dawn Racer for reviewing the last chapter and/or suggestions for the names. I chose the names that I feel as if I could work with the best, because the sparklings are majorly based off of their designations.**

**Keep in mind that I considered using all of the names presented, but I had to choose just two. None of them were horrible, mind you. Again, thanks for the suggestons.**

**Hope you will be joining me next chapter. Constructive criticism welcomed heartily, while flames will be dealt with by Starscream on a sugar high.**


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